Blight Tales
by bioncafemme
Summary: A Collection of one shots that take place during the blight. Sten/Tabris, Riordan/Cousland, Oghren/Mahariel Clean ,Cousland/Morrigan, and others as I go along.  Rated M
1. A Single Blade

**Blight Tales**

**A Collection of One shots**

**Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

"**A single blade in a country at war"**

* * *

**In Redcliffe:**

"Strange," Sten murmured and his head turned to again glance at Asala strapped to his back, as if making sure the sword was really there. "Completion," he groaned in audible relief. "I had almost forgotten the feeling," his eyes fell back down upon Kallian Tabris and for a moment it seemed as though he was about to smile.

Kallian waited, she herself keeping her face straight and then it happened, Stens lips curved upwards marginally. And though he showed no teeth, for Kallian that smile was worth traipsing half-way all over Ferelden just for a single sword.

"Are you certain you are a Grey Warden?" Sten's voice held a very subtle teasing note. "I think you must be an Ashkaari, to find a single blade in a country at war. I would thank you, if I but had the words."

Kallian's own face split into a grin. "There's no need to thank me. You have done so much for me…I mean, us, already Sten."

Sten looked down at her in that intense way that often made Kallian's knees weak. His violet eyes burrowed into her blue ones and she felt utterly naked under his gaze. Never had anyone had such an effect on her, merely by looking at her.

"Then I will stay Warden, I think that I could deliver a more _satisfying_ report to the Arishok, were the Archdemon dead, do you not agree?" he asked her with a lifted brow.

She reached out to him then, clasping his forearm in a warriors handshake, a wide grin on her face. "Absolutely!" she agreed, and when his large hand slid gently down her forearm he ghosted his fingertips over the palm of her hand, and she shivered.

He saw this and the smile returned, the subtle teasing in his voice that would have gone unnoticed by anyone but her. "Are you cold, Kadan?"

She restrained herself from telling him that yes, she was cold and she needed him, hot, hard and sweaty on top of her. But she would not break this tentative relationship they were building by being crude. She settled for shaking her head, "Not now, Sten."

* * *

**Redcliffe; the night before the final battle:**

"Sten?" the voice of Kallian called to him from the main doors and he stiffened momentarily before relaxing. They may die tomorrow, there was no need to continue on this charade. He cared for her, there was no denying it now.

"Kadan," he grunted an acknowledgment and waited for her to seat herself next to him on the front steps.

"What are you doing out here?" she questioned. Her small body involuntarily leaning into his side for heat. A habit she had developed when they were at camp. Though she did it with him more than anyone else, claiming that he generated a lot of heat. To which he had replied, _'You're talent for stating the obvious is astounding, Warden.' _This had gotten him an appreciative laugh and he could not say that he was displeased with the sound.

The Sten of the Beresaad had so many answers to that question, finally he settled for the most harmless one. "I was told there would be cake," he growled. And then he looked down at her with an accusatory glare, "The cake is a lie!"

This had the desired effect as she bit her bottom lip in a valiant effort not to laugh and then finally her composure broke and she erupted with laughter that warmed his heart. "Sten! Oh Maker!" she giggled. "The cake is a lie!" she lowered her voice in what he assumed was an attempt at mimicking him. Inadequate as the attempt was, it seemed to amuse her further and she laughed harder, wrapping her arms around her middle in a futile effort to contain her laughter.

"I am happy that the lack of satisfactory confections amuses you," Sten replied tersely but a smile pulled at the corners of his lips none-the-less.

"It does, you are are a very funny man, my dear Sten," she replied and looped her arm with his and leaned her head on his bicep.

Sten's heart sped up but he made no move to push her away, after tonight, there would be no more chances to be close to her like this. After tonight, if they both lived, he would return to Seheron and she would likely stay in Ferelden.

"Sten," she said suddenly. "How do the Qunari…" she trailed off a note of embarassment in her voice.

"Ask your question, Kadan," he commanded.

"Well, I was wondering about Qunari marriages," she said quietly.

"The Qunari don't marry as you think of it, Kadan. The bond goes much deeper than a mere utterance of words. There is a…mating ritual. Every Qunari female is marked by her mate, in a show of dominance that every Qunari male recognizes. A Qunari female would be off-limits to any other male but her mate and she can only ever have one mate in her lifetime. Should her mate die, she cannot mate again," he replies.

"That sounds…terribly romantic for such a stoic race. Or is it just you?" she teased.

"Warden, under the right circumstances, I am very romantic," Sten retorted without missing a beat, eliciting another laugh from her.

"I meant stoic, Sten," her blue eyes glittered in the moonlight and Sten found himself unable to tear his eyes from hers.

"Not all men are the same, Kadan," he said in a quieter voice than he normally used.

She tilted her head to the side, remembering the way that the other Qunari Warriors had bantered back and forth while she attempted to rescue Sten from the dream he already knew he was in. "No," she said after a time. "I suppose that much is true. The same goes for women," she grinned up at him, enjoying the grunt of acknowledgement.

"I have yet to meet any other woman worthy of the title; warrior, Kadan. I think you are the exception to this rule," he replied.

"Sten, I think that might be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she cooed, chuckling at his lifted eyebrow.

They sat in silence for awhile and Sten could feel her leaning more heavily against him. "Kadan, are you falling asleep?"

She sat straight up, "No."

"You lie badly," he pointed out.

She laughed but made no reply.

Kadan, I have a question of my own," he said after a moment.

"Oh? Ask away."

"Why are you out here, instead of inside with the others?" he expected her to make excuses about not liking Castles or crowds or something of that nature. What he didn't expect was the way that she slid her hand into his and squeezed it.

"I just found out why Warden's are needed to end a Blight," she replied.

He said nothing but looked down at their joined hands, her tiny fingers interlocked with his giant ones. Her fingers were cool and rough from handling her sword and shield.

"When the Archdemon dies, its soul seeks out the taint in another. If the nearest body is a dark spawn, it inhabits the souless body and the cycle begins again. If the body belongs to a Warden, the two souls destroy each other and both the Archdemon and the Warden die," her voice trembled towards the end of her explanation.

Sten stiffened beside her and involuntarily he tightened his grip on her hand, though being careful not to hurt her. "You volunteered to take the final blow?"

"I did, though Riordan seems to think that he will be able to get to the beast before I do," she replied. "And there is something else."

"There is always something else," Sten replied.

Kallian laughed darkly. "Yes, Morrigan has approached me with a…deal. She wants me to talk Alistair into impregnating her. The child will bear the taint and the Archdemon's soul will be drawn to it instead of me or Alistair, when the time comes."

"And you refused her," Sten said as if he already knew the answer.

It was Kallian's hand that tightened on his then and he was glad for the comfort that it imparted. "Yes."

"As befitting a brave and noble warrior," Sten said in approval.

"I'm glad you think so, I don't feel so brave at the moment," she replied.

"Make no mistake, Kadan. You are the bravest Warrior I know," he assured her.

"Thank you, Sten. I feel the same way about you," she said softly.

"Sten?" she said after a time.

"You've another question," Sten answered.

She laughed. "Yes, I do in fact. Do the Qunari ever take mates from other races?"

"On occasion," Sten replied, his heart speeding up.

"Would you ever consider it? Taking a mate of another race, that is?" she tilted her face upwards, her eyes watching the clouds pass over the full moon.

"I have considered it often, more often as of late. Being in your lands has opened my mind to other possibilities," he replied. "Of course my mate would have to convert to the Qun."

She nodded, "Of course."

"And she would have to be willing to be marked by me," he pressed on.

She winced at that but nodded. "That, I think is only reasonable."

"She would have to return with me to Seheron and it would be likely that she would never see Ferelden again," he turned to her, looking down on her, gauging her reaction.

She turned her face to him, her large blue eyes looking up at him through mohagany lashes. "I foresee no problem with that."

"Then it is settled, Kadan. I will take you for my mate," he said in satisfaction.

Kallian chuckled. "My, you were right. You are very romantic," she snuggled into his side.

"Sten, there is one more thing I think you should know, you may not want me anymore after I tell you," she said.

"Kadan, if you think I do not know that you snore like an Archdemon and eat like one as well, then you greatly underestimate my powers of observation," he replied and grunted as she slapped at his arm.

"Thanks," she laughed. "What I was going to say is that if you wanted to have children then you should choose a different 'mate'. When I took my joining it… left me barren. I don't even have my moon cycle anymore," she said sadly.

Instead of moving away from her as she assumed he would, he pulled her closer to him. "As I said, Kadan. You are a soldier worthy of standing amongst the Beresaad, and we are not chosen to breed. I know not what the Tamassran's would give you as a place in our society, but you are well-suited to the Beresaad. Our Imekaari are taken and given to the Tamassran's to train, we do not keep them as your 'parents' keep you. If we were to have…Imekaari, they would only be taken from you anyway. From what I know of your culture, that would hurt you greatly. So it is just as well that you cannot procreate."

"I see," Kallian said with some relief.

Sten stood and held out his hand to her. "Come, Kadan. Tommorow we may die, but tonight we bond."

* * *

**Denerim: The final Battle**

Time seemed to stand still for Sten as he watched Alistair and Kallian take the final blow together, neither being able to bear to relinquish the burden to the other. Each leaving it up to fate to decide who lived and who died. Sten watched helplessly and even he could not help but hope that it would not be his warrior woman, his mate.

He had marked her the night before the final battle. Had watched as she gazed up at him in awe when the wound he'd left in the juncture between her neck and shoulder healed almost immediately, leaving only a large white circular bite-pattern scar on her tanned skin.

He struggled to keep from running to her as she and Alistair each struggled to take the head off the Archdemon. The dragon lie still, bleeding out from the onslaught of the ballista's and the might of their blades. At his side the Mage they picked up in the circle tower stood ready to help whichever one made it out alive and suddenly, both Wardens were flung back by a burst of light and energy, Kallian to one side, Alistair to the other. The flash was blinding and Sten struggled with the after images trying to see where his Warden had been thrown.

When he could see again, he found to his great relief and also to his great sadness, Kallian stood and Alistair did not. She swayed slightly and then stumbled her way to the still form of the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden. Alistair's twisted body lie still, never to rise again.

Sten joined her at her side and dropped to one knee beside the fallen Warden. He took out the small black book, given to him by Kallian not long before that day. The Qunari prayer for the dead fell from his lips, accompanied by the soft sobbing of the woman he loved.

* * *

**A week later on a ship bound for Seheron:**

Kallian stood on the deck of "The Sea Foam", a ship bound for the shores of Seheron. She smiled wide as a few droplets of sea water kissed her face on the ocean breeze. A looming solid body pressed itself against her back and large hands appeared next to her much smaller ones, gripping the railing. Silken lips pressed themselves against the tip of her ear, causing her to shiver in delight. She leaned back slightly, letting her head rest on his shoulder as he bent over to place his face next to hers.

"The sea agrees with you, Kadan," he commented.

"It does," she smiled contentedly. "And it smells much better than wet dog."

Sten grunted his agreement before his lips once again were at her ear, "You left our cabin, I had plans for you."

"Really?" she twisted around in his embrace and wound her small arms around his neck. "What would the great Sten of the Beresaad want with me?"

"Completion," Sten growled and swooped down to capture her lips with his. They battled with tongues, teeth and lips, each striving for dominance and in the end, she submitted to his will.

When he pulled away from her he swept her up into his arms and a sudden thought had her giggling.

"Kadan, why are you laughing?" he looked down upon her as he carried her to their cabin.

"I was just thinking about something Alistair said when we first met, and I think he was wrong," she replied.

"No doubt, he was often wrong," Sten said as he threw her onto their bed and slammed the door shut behind him, his violet eyes heated as he stalked towards her.

"He said swooping was bad," she grinned as Sten started to remove the clothing from her body. "I happen to like swooping, myself."

Sten gave her that half-smile and lifted a white brow at her. "Indeed," he answered and captured her lips for another kiss.

* * *

**A/N: I know that this isn't exactly a largely written pairing. And I have to say that I understand the potential for a "OH MY GOD! SOMEONE PUT OUT MY EYES!" type of reaction.**

**All I know is that Sten is a very deep character and I thought that though unconventional, a relationship with Sten had real possibilities. Sure he might not be all that emotional on the outside, but the more I learned about Sten, the more I really liked him.**

**Lastly, I know this is not beta'd. But Melismo is awful busy during the week now. I will have more one shots to update to this with, not with Sten but with other pairings. I hope you enjoyed! =)**


	2. Do not follow me

**Blight Tales**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

"**Do not follow me."**

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Dragon Age: Origins. That honor belongs to Bioware._

* * *

"What is this all about, Morrigan?" Aedan reached for her hand and was shocked when Morrigan hissed at him and wrenched away from his touch.

"No, do not...touch me,"she choked on the as yet unnamed emotion. "I warned you, did I not? I told you that this was a weakness that was driving me mad, and yet you persisted!" she backed away from him with wide eyes.

The sight of her so vulnerable and so frightened of what they had together broke something inside of him. Once again, he cursed the old hag that Morrigan had been raised by. He knew now that Flemeth had never given the girl any type of affection, lest she become too attached to Morrigan and not be able to take her body for her own. But it had left Morrigan almost incapable of warmth or affection, that is, until Aedan came along and awoke those feelings in her. "I don't _want_ to hurt you," he tried to soothe her.

"Yes! Yes you do!" she growled at his inability to see reason and then she shook her head in disbelief at her own inability to want him to see reason. "And I...want it still. I hunger for it, for you. That is...not how a real woman should act, is it?" she looked up at him then and found sadness in his eyes. "No, tis not, I can see it in your eyes. Please," she held out her hands to him pleadingly. "Release me from this torment! Tell me you do not love me, make me believe it and I... shall be grateful."

Aedan pulled her forward and into the shelter of his arms, wrapping them around her as if trying to protect her from the world. He pressed a kiss into her hair, "I cannot. For I do love you, with all that I am. Emotions such as love are not as quickly undone as you would wish, my love."

Morrigan shook in his arms and he thought, foolishly, that she was crying. That is until she pushed him away from her, her normally white cheeks flushed and her eyes flashing dangerously. "You selfish bastard!" she raged at him. "You will regret this!" she promised. Her anger bled away to once again be replaced by sorrow. "And so will I," with that she transformed into a white wolf and bounded out of the camp.

Aedan watched her go, torn between the need to go after her and the need to hit something. Eventually he settled for going back to the main fire.

"You did the right thing, dear," Wynne said as he neared his companions.

Aedan's storm colored eyes snapped up to meet hers and he jabbed a finger in her direction. "Don't speak to me of things you know nothing about, old woman! I neither care, nor do I want your opinions. Especially when it involves the woman I love. You can keep your comments to yourself!" he barked.

"Hey, you don't need to-," Alistair started to say in Wynne's defense.

"And you," Aedan whirled on the ex-templar interrupting him. "I've no need of your spitefulness either. I realize that you and Morrigan hate each other, but I _refuse_ to let you or anyone else speak ill of her in my presence. I love her, and despite what you might think, she loves me as well. So in the future I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut!"

Alistair narrowed his eyes on him and looked as if he was about to say something else but Aedan turned and walked the other way before he had a chance. He kept walking in fact, until the camp fire was out of sight.

He soon reached a clearing in the forest and climbed up onto a large boulder, then he laid down on his back and looked up at the stars. It was not long after that a white wolf melted out of the shadows, Aedan spied it out of the corner of his eye. "I've missed you, you know? It isn't only about _that_ for me," he said, knowing that it was her. There was a sense of shifting, a whispering of magic and the white shape in the corner of his vision grew, both larger and darker, Aedan waited for her to make the first move.

He did not have to wait long because Morrigan moved towards the boulder and then she climbed up on to it and laid down next to him, her shoulder against his. "I know, and yet, tis difficult for me to have these feelings. I do not know how to explain why this is so troublesome for me. What I do know is that this will end badly," her voice seemed more under control than before, but then he could feel a subtle shaking of her body next to his.

"Either of us could die, yes, I know. But I would rather mourn you and have loved you, than never to have loved you at all," he replied, still not moving closer to her, no matter how much his arms ached for her.

"Just because you are masochistic, do not presume that the rest of us are," she replied with a sniff. But she shifted onto her side and picked up his arm, then she scooted closer so that she could lay her head upon his chest. The fist that had closed over his heart loosened and he wrapped the arm that she had moved around her body, enjoying the press of her breasts against him.

"Are you cold?" he asked worriedly as he felt her shiver in his embrace.

"No," she replied simply.

They laid there together, holding each other until it was time for Aedan to take watch. Neither of them spoke for fear that they might break the connection they both wanted so desperately.

Two months later in Redcliffe...

Aedan found Alistair outside of Riordan's room. The young man looked nervous and a bit tired. The relief on his face at seeing Aedan approaching was painfully visible and Aedan felt a stab of guilt for what he had done to him. No one wanted to be King less than Alistair Theirin. Yet, even knowing that, Aedan and Eamon had bullied, cajoled and manipulated him into it. And even now, Alistair looked at Aedan with heartbreaking gratefulness for his presence. It left Aedan with a slightly sickening sense of pity for the royal bastard. But the Couslands always put duty first, and putting Maric's son on the throne had been the only move that would end the Civil War with minimal blood-shed.

"There you are!" Alistair said with a smile when Aedan finally reached him, the relieved expression still in place. "Let's go see what Riordan wants, eh?"

Aedan gave Alistair a reassuring smile. "Don't worry Alistair, whatever it is, I'm sure we'll be able to handle it."

Alistair nodded and smiled at him gratefully, then he gave Riordan's door a few raps. The door latch lifted and Riordan opened it, stepping aside to let them in.

"Thank you both for joining me," Riordan said in his faded Orlesian accent, his facegrim and looking older than when they found him in Fort Drakon. He gestured to the three chairs he had set before the fire. Though Alistair sat down, Aedan shook his head. The expression on Riordan's face told of bad news and Aedan dealt with bad news better if he was able to pace. He settled instead for poking at Riordan's fire with a poker, the back of his hand settled into the small of his back, as was the standard posture of many a nobleman.

Riordan handed them each a glass of wine before taking his own seat. "Before I begin, I must ask whether or not Duncan explained to you why a Grey Warden is needed to defeat an Archdemon?"

A cold and heavy feeling began settled Aedan's gut. "I assumed," he turned his head and looked over his shoulder at the Senior Warden, "that it has something to do with the taint in us..."

"Just so," Riordan replied.

"You mean there's more to it than just say, cutting off the dragon's head?" Alistair asked, interested now. He leaned forward in his chair, eager for any information on the order they belonged to.

Aedan would have laughed at Alistair's naivete, were it not for the fact that he was busy trying to push away the gnawing feeling of dread that had latched onto his midsection him.

"The dragon must be beheaded, this is true. However, if there are no Grey Wardens present when the deed is done then the soul of the Archdemon will seek out the nearest dark spawn and possess it, then the cycle will begin anew. That is why the Grey Wardens were created, the soul will seek us out first, particularly if a Grey Warden delivers the killing blow," Riordan said and sipped more of his wine.

Aedan was beginning to understand, even if by the look on his face, Alistair did not. "That doesn't sound too healthy for the Grey Warden."

Riordan nodded, "The dark spawn is an empty soulless vessel. A Grey Warden is not. When the Old God's soul attempts to possess the Grey Warden, the two souls destroy each other. Unfortunately, the Grey Warden dies in the process," he finished, draining the rest of his wine.

"Why didn't Duncan tell us this?" Alistair stared down into his goblet, despair and disbelief clearly written all over his face.

"I suspect he did not have time," Riordan laid a hand on the young King's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "As a rule the eldest among us would decide who would take the blow. I am the eldest, and the taint will not spare me for much longer. If possible the blow should fall to me. If I fall..." he trailed off looking from one man to the other meaningfully.

"Then I will be the one to make that sacrifice," Aedan spoke up immediately.

Alistair's eyes snapped up from his goblet to Aedan. "I've been a Warden longer than you!" he exclaimed.

Aedan finally turned around to face both men. "Alistair, I know that you wish that you had been there, to shield Duncan. Just like I know that you would willingly do this for me, but, you are King now. You have responsibilitie-," Aedan was cut off by an angry growl from Alistair.

"Responsibilities that I never wanted and you and Arl Eamon forced me to take. I'm still a Grey Warden, you know!" Alistair retorted with a scowl on his face.

Aedan shook his head and sighed heavily. "I know, and the Grey Wardens are going to need you alive for what will come next. After this is all over, there is much that will need doing. Things that are more easily done with you in power. You think that Anora would let the Grey Wardens rebuild in Ferelden so easily after we executed her Father in the middle of the Landsmeet?" Aedan asked pointedly, wishing that Alistair had just executed the infernal woman when they'd had the chance.

"She would be stupid not to," Alistair replied.

"Yes well, I think we've established that selfish stupidity runs in the family. She did get us sent to Fort Drakon and _then_ she asked us to support her as Queen. That seems a bit counter intuitive, don't you think?" Aedan replied with a lifted brow.

"Alright, I see your point," he grumbled.

Aedan chuckled and then turned his attention back to Riordan. "Is there anything else?"

Riordan shook his head. "No, I suggest we all turn in for the night, we'll need our rest for tomorrow."

Alistair got up from his chair and handed his untouched drink back to the Senior Warden. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. I guess this means that this is almost over, one way or another."

Riordan gave Alistair a smile and a nod. "Goodnight, Alistair."

Alistair bid them both a goodnight and then left the room. Aedan was about to follow his example when Riordan set a staying hand on his forearm. "Aedan, thank you for volunteering," he looked into Aedan's eyes meaningfully.

He gave Riordan a small bow of his head. "It is nothing more than my duty, Ser."

Riordan gave his shoulder a squeeze and then a firm clap on the back. "Go, get some rest, yes? We have much to do tomorrow."

Bidding Riordan a good night, Aedan left the warm glow of the Senior Warden's room, just in time to catch Alistair's golden armor disappearing around a corner. He sighed deeply and then rubbed his palms over his face, the stubble that he'd allowed to grow over his jaw and chin in the past month greeted him with the familiar feel of almost-beard. He'd tried to tell himself that it was just laziness, but he knew whenever he looked at himself in a pool of water or glimpsed himself in a looking glass that he looked almost like Fergus. He was thinner in the face perhaps, and his eyes were a dark gray instead of brown, and his chin was that of the men on his Mother's side of the family, a tad stronger than his brother's chin. But startlingly similar none-the-less.

Aedan still clung to hope that Fergus made it out of Ostagar, but with each passing day it became increasingly more likely that he had perished, as Morrigan had so charmingly pointed out in Lothering. He winced at the thought of his lover. He would go to her now, if he thought she would be receptive. But Morrigan had kept her distance since the night he refused to tell her what she _thought_ she needed to hear.

It surprised him deeply when he opened his door and found her there, standing before his fireplace and staring into its flames. "Morrigan?" he tried to school his voice, to keep the warmth and genuine pleasure at seeing her in his room out of it. But it bled through anyway and he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for it. When she didn't turn immediately he swallowed, thinking that she had finally come to end things between them. "Love, are you alright?" he asked cautiously.

"I am fine. Tis you that is in danger," she turned around finally. Her full lips pulled up into a smile that did not touch her eyes. There was something about that smile that he didn't like, something he hadn't seen since the beginning of their travels. She walked towards him now, a sway to her walk and a tilt to her head, he turned and closed the door. Leaning his forehead upon the doors wooden surface, he braced himself for the betrayal that he believed was coming. She was so painfully obvious, "What is it that you want, Morrigan?"

"I want you to live," she said, the seductive tone had faded from her voice and was replaced by something else, something raw with hurt and bitterness.

"I don't know if that is possible. I am sorry, my love," he replied.

"Have you not ever wondered why my Mother sent me with you? I have a way out, you see. A loop in your hole," her voice came closer and soon her warmth was pressed into his back. "I know that a Grey Warden must slay the Archdemon and that you could be the one to make that sacrifice. But that does not need to be," her hands pressed themselves to his back and stroked upwards in a feather light caress that made him shiver.

Aedan squeezed his eyes shut and swatted away the brief flash of anger that she had known all along, and explored instead the feeling of her body against his. She was right, he was foolish...she was using him and yet, he wanted her to. He could almost laugh bitterly at the irony in that. Were those not almost the exact words that she said to him not so long ago?

"What are you proposing?" he asked, knowing that he might well refuse and that his refusal would anger her beyond reconciliation. This could be the moment she walked away from him forever.

All at once her warmth was removed from him and he mourned the loss of it until her hand took his and she pulled him towards the bed, where she sat down and looked up at him. "Lie with me, here, tonight. And from our union a child shall be conceived. That child shall bare the taint. When the dragon is slain, the soul of the Old God will seek out that child, like a beacon. At this early stage the child can absorb the soul and not be destroyed. No one will have to die."

"Nothing comes without a price, Morrigan," he couldn't help the sharp edge in his voice, nor the glare he turned on her. A Child! Maker's breath! A child with the soul of an Old God. What on earth could she possibly want with such a creature?

"Perhaps, but that price need not be so unbearable," she replied. "Do this and I promise you that it _will_ work, and it _will_ save your life."

He sat down beside her and he let his head drop into his hands. "What about this child? What will happen to it?"

She stiffened beside him. "I do not wish to tell you."

"Then the answer is no," Aedan started to get to his feet and was pulled back down.

"Do not be a petulant child!" she hissed.

"I have a right to know, Morrigan!" he growled, his storm-cloud colored eyes piercing into hers.

At that her anger seemed to deflate. "Yes, you do. I...apologize. I suppose that though she is gone, the specter of Flemeth haunts me still. I will answer your questions, as best I can."

He let out a heavy breath and then ran a hand through his hair. "What will happen to the child? Will it be hurt in any way?"

"Ignoring the fact that after one night it could barely be called a child, no, it will not be hurt. It will be changed," she replied. "After the battle, I will be leaving."

"Why?" he demanded. After all that they had been through together, after what they must face, she will just be leaving him anyway, and taking their child with her! Andraste wept!

"It is all I ask for in return. I leave, and you do not follow. I will raise the child alone and teach it to respect that which it came from. Make of that what you will," she looked down at her hands and so did Aedan. As he did he noticed that there were black lines drawn around the bed on the floor in what appeared to be charcoal. Lines and also runes, and as he looked he noticed that candles had been strategically placed around the room, as well. Was he really so predictable? Was she so sure that he would say yes?

"So what about us? Was any of that real?" he asked, hating the vulnerability creeping into his tone. If his voice was not as deep as it was, he might have sounded like Alistair.

"I told you, did I not? That you would regret this, and so would I?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "Love is a weakness and we are both to blame. Take heart in the knowledge that I do love you, and that I do, only makes me more determined to go through with this, even though Flemeth is gone," she replied with conviction. "Refuse me, however, and I shall leave tonight."

In the end he will agree, he knows this, as does she. "You know that I will try to find you, no matter what it is that you want," he said.

A sad smile crosses her face, gone before he has the time to analyze its meaning. "You will not find me. I can hardly stop you from attempting it. Though I wish you would not try. It will only bring you heartache," and this is the closest thing to an apology that she will offer. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, brushing them lightly over the backs of her slender fingers.

"I will do as you ask, if only because I wish to say goodbye to you properly, should this be the last time I can ever look upon you," his voice is pitched low and he watched her stand and bring her hands up to his shirt, unbuttoning it.

"Then, let us put all thoughts of the ritual aside. Come, my love. We will make this last night together one to remember," she promised, her yellow eyes glistening with tears that he knows will go unshed.

He learned long ago that she is scarcely the kind of woman that cries, going always to anger first before tears. His hand steals up to the side of her face and he traces his fingertips over the porcelain skin of her cheek. "So beautiful and yet so strong. I hope that our son has your strength, and your smile," he said more to himself than to her.

"Foolish man," she chided as she pushed his shirt down over his shoulders. "What makes you think you will give me a son?"

"Because you do not want to live forever," he said and then he cupped her face with both hands. "I certainly would not like to have forever if my wild witch were not there by my side. I imagine that you've already altered the ritual to ensure that the child is a boy?"

Many expressions warred for dominance on her face. Irritation at his appalling sentimentality, affection at his sweetness, grief at the thought of this being their last night together, and anger that again he has seen what is in her heart when she herself does not even dare to give voice to it. "It will be a son," she said, the only acknowledgment of her unspoken feelings that she will give.

"What-," his voice holds the faintest tremble and he leans his forehead against hers. "What will you name him?"

"Aeryn," she replied softly.

Aedan hummed in approval. "A good, strong, Highever name. Very well," he snaked and arm around her and attempted to unlace the back of her dress, and was instead, pushed down onto the bed.

"Relax my love," she purred out. "Let me make you forget all else."

She undressed for him slowly; straps pulled loose, lacing undone, leather, velvet and small clothes pooled onto to the floor, and then she climbed onto the bed with him, prowling as he retreated up the bed towards the pillows. She the predator and he the prey.

After the final battle...

Fergus looked down at the rosewood ring that Aedan had just placed in his palm. "You don't think she'll know that you've left the ring in Highever?"

Aedan shrugged and shoved another set of clothes into his pack, "As long as its not on my person when I try to find her, that is all that matters. You are the only one that I can entrust it to. Alistair would be just as likely to throw it out as put it somewhere safe. Besides, it will give me an excuse to return to Highever, once this is done."

"You'd better," Fergus said with a chuckle. "Or else I'll hunt you down and nag you just like mother did."

Aedan favored his elder brother with a look of mock terror, "Not that!"

Fergus snorted and then shook his head before tucking the wooden ring into his breast pocket. He then leaned on the door frame of the palace guestroom that Aedan was now in the process of vacating. "I'm surprised that you're not taking Command of the Wardens, now that this is all over. Alistair was quite put out when he had to send all the way to Orlais for one," he brother said with a lifted brow.

Aedan sighed and cinched up his pack. "I'm sure he was, lazy sod," he muttered, drawing another chuckle from his brother. "Thank you, by the way. He needs someone on _his_ side. Were it not for this..." he trailed off with a weak hand gesture.

Fergus held up his own hand. "Don't worry. I don't mind, little brother. Alistair is a good man and we've become friends - of a sort. It will give me something other than rebuilding Highever to think about. The busier I am...well, you know."

Aedan nodded and then crossed the room, giving his brother a strong embrace. When he pulled away he clasped hands with Fergus. "I love you, brother."

Fergus grinned and released Aedan's hand, only to ruffle the younger man's hair fondly. "I love you too, try to stay out of trouble."

Aedan smirked, "I promise nothing."

With one last farewell, Fergus left Aedan's room. Aedan himself was about to leave when he spied something on his bed. It was shiny and caught the light from the windows of his room. He frowned. "No," he denied and then crossed the room, finding that it was what he thought it was. Somehow, Morrigan had managed to have someone leave this in his room. He dropped his pack in favor of picking the object up. He sunk down heavily on the bed as he turned the object over and over in his hands. Not a single gem had come loose, they sparkled and shown, as though newly polished. Finally he had turned it so that he could see his own visage staring back at him from the polished silvered surface. She'd left him the mirror he had given her after they left Orzammar. "Damn you, Morrigan!" he hissed out and then he lifted it into the air, ready to hurl it across the room only to pause when a flash of light emanated from it.

He lowered it and looked into it. In the mirror he saw a wooded clearing and in the middle of that clearing a fire blazed. Sitting beside the fire was a raven haired beauty, one that he knew all too well. Morrigan sat beside the fire mixing some ingredients into a bowl, her lips moved but no sound was heard. Suddenly her movements and her lips stilled and she looked up, her golden eyes seeming to stare right at him, he was so startled by this that he almost dropped the mirror. The corners of her lips lifted in a knowing smile and the image faded, leaving behind only his own face staring back at him. He stared down at the thing in disbelief, she had given him a way for him to see her. When the shock wore off it was replaced with both gratefulness and anger. Grateful that she had sought to ease his mind by giving him a way to see that both she and the child were alright, and angry that she thought that this would be enough. "I will find you, Morrigan," he promised. "You can not run from me forever."

He wrapped the mirror in some linen he found in the armoir and put it into his pack. Finally ready to go, he left his room in search of the one other person who was loyal enough to follow him on what he hoped was his last quest. And it was not long before he found the Assassin, who was waiting for him at the front gate.

"Hello, my Grey Warden," Zevran flashed Aedan a dashing smile when he finally reached him.

"Are you ready, Zev?" Aedan asked as he adjusted his pack over his shoulder.

"Always," Zevran replied with a smirk.

"Then let's get going, we have a witch that needs hunting," Aedan grinned back, happy that they were finally underway.

* * *

**A/N: Although I am including this in "Blight Tales" it is also the prelude to "Witches and Mirrors", a fiction that I plan on undertaking as soon as I get "The Awakening" mostly finished.**

**Let me know what you think and if you have any helpful suggestions, I'm all ears! I'm most worried about how I am portraying Morrigan. **


	3. Nice moves there, old man

**Blight Tales**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**Bionca Femme**

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. That privilege belongs to bioware._

"**Nice moves there, old man."**

* * *

Elissa Cousland; one of the last three Grey Wardens in Ferelden, warrior, King maker, peace maker and one of the bravest women of all Thedas, sank down against the stone wall of the corridor just outside her room at Redcliffe. It was the night before they were to march on Denerim and Morrigan had just made Elissa and Alistair an offer that Elissa should have refused. Elissa pulled her knees up to her chest and let her head fall forward so that the curtain of her fiery red hair obscured her face from any that might pass by. She allowed the tears to fall as she remembered the look of disgust on Alistair's face when Elissa was just about ejected from her room by a smirking Morrigan.

She had barely gotten her emotions under control when there was a masculine cry of surprise and then a moan from her bedroom door, Elissa stiffened angrily. She may have pleaded with Alistair to do this so that both of them would live, but did he have to actually..._ugh_...enjoy it? Elissa felt her anger flare and knot bitterly in her gut. She pulled herself up from the floor, ready to go bust down the door and tell Morrigan and Alistair that the deal was off, when Riordan's door, not far away from where she was standing, opened.

"Elissa?" Elissa turned, her eyes wide and her expression horrified as she watched Riordan's door open to reveal the Senior Warden of Jader standing there in a pair of trousers, slung low on his hips, and nothing else.

Elissa blushed furiously and averted her gaze from the battle hardened and handsome physique of her superior. "I'm sorry, Riordan. I hope I did not wake you."

Riordan's eyebrows knitted together and then lifted in surprise as another moan from Alistair and a corresponding feminine giggle erupted from her room. "Elissa, is that-?" he looked from her to her room and back again.

Elissa still wouldn't look at him but now her lower lip trembled and her normally tanned skin was pale. She contemplated running but her Cousland pride reared its ugly head and told her that, quite frankly, if she ran now she was nothing but a sodding coward. Instead she let out a shuddering breath and turned her gaze upon him, her chin lifted bravely. "Yes," she answered.

Riordan opened his door further and stepped aside. "I think it is best if you come inside, lass."

Elissa nodded and clenched her fists, striding forward she entered his room with her head held high, despite the noise coming from her room.

Once she was inside she heard the 'click' of the door being shut behind her and her shoulders sagged. Now no longer in the hallway and confined in the warmth of Riordan's firelit room she felt overwhelmed by the knowledge that she had just given the only man to have ever won her love and broken her heart, to a woman who was as vile and conniving as she was beautiful.

"Elissa, why is Alistair sleeping with another woman in _your_ room?" Riordan asked gently. He wasn't privy to the details of their relationship, but he knew they had at one point been lovers and that Alistair had ended it, in front of all their companions no less.

He watched as she stiffened. "What if I told you that there was a way that no Warden would have to be sacrificed to end the blight?" she asked cautiously.

"I would say that it is a wonderful discovery, though nothing comes without a price," he answered and tilted his head curiously at her bitter laugh.

"That's what I said. But if it will keep Alistair from dying then I would do anything..." she trailed off.

"What has the Blight got to do with what is going on behind your bedroom door?" Riordan asked with a clear note of disapproval.

"Morrigan...she has a sex ritual that will ensure that no Grey Warden will have to be sacrificed tomorrow," she said bluntly.

There was a scoffing noise from Riordan and Elissa turned to face him. "I know it sounds...far-fetched, but Morrigan's mother _is_ Flemeth. It seems that Morrigan has known the entire time what we would face in the end, and this is why Flemeth sent her with us in the first place," Elissa said.

Riordan gestured to a pair of chairs by the fire and Elissa took a seat, he then poured them both a glass of Antivan brandy and handed her one. She took it gratefully and downed half the contents in one go.

The Senior Warden watched this part amusement and part worry, "Easy now, lass. Antivan Brandy is meant to be sipped."

Elissa eyed him and then downed the rest only to hold out her glass for a refill. He grinned broadly at her and poured her another. "Or you could just down it and throw it back up again in a few moments, as you wish," he replied with a chuckle.

Elissa lifted a delicately sculpted dark red brow at him, "I think you mistakenly believe that I was raised as a Lady, sir. I can hold my own against Oghren."

Riordan's dark blue eyes twinkled as he watched her take another drink, though not a huge gulp, it was still far from the dainty sip he would have expected. "Oh? Duncan's records stated that you are the only daughter of Teryn Cousland."

"And raised to take command of Highever's armies," she retorted, her chin jutted out again proudly. "That takes many nights drinking and many days fighting along side those you would command, to gain their respect.

Riordan shook his head. "You are every bit as fiery as Duncan described."

"'Bryce Cousland's little spitfire' is the way the nobility described me, yes," Elissa said with a smirk.

Riordan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Certainly an apt description. Though it is also said that not only are you beautiful, brave and kind, but that you would have made an excellent Queen..."

At that Elissa downed the rest of her drink in one go and then eyed him skeptically, "Oh is that what they say? Well, I think its safe to say that not all rumor's are true."

"Perhaps," Riordan replied as he leaned forward, his own drink held in both hands and his elbows on his knees. He met her eyes intensely before continuing, "You would have been ruined by life at court. I for one, would not care to see the fire die in your eyes."

"Is it not extinguished yet?" she sighed wearily. "After losing my entire family, Alistair, and now facing my impending doom tomorrow, you'd think my tiresome 'fire' would be a sodding wet mess by now."

Riordan smiled and then shook his head then he leaned back into his chair. As he did, the firelight danced over the well-formed musculature of his torso and the scars that he sported. She found herself unable to help herself as her eyes wandered over him. She felt suddenly hot and a little dizzy and she held up her glass and gave it an accusatory glare, "I think you're right about this brandy, its...getting to me." She looked up to find him looking at her contemplatively, she lifted a brow at him again.

He smiled boyishly at her. "Oh?" he stood and held out his hand to her. She took it and let him pull her up. She squeaked when he quickly released her hand and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. His eyes caressed her face with their heated gaze and traveled slowly from her lips to her eyes. "Alistair is a fool," he growled and the sound traveled down her spine.

"Riordan," she said huskily, unable to think of anything to say with his body pressed so tightly against hers. It had been awhile since anyone but Alistair had touched her this way.

His eyes slid closed at the sound of his name on her lips. "Again," he commanded, his other hand coming up to tangle in her red hair. "Say my name again."

There was a moments hesitation, a single breath where it occurred to her that she should not be there, locked in the handsome Senior Warden's passionate embrace. She thought bitterly that she should feel guilty for moving on from Alistair so quickly. And perhaps, it was the fact that she knew that it was wrong that made it feel so good. Before she could even think to stop herself the Senior Wardens name passed her lips, a challenge in her tone and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Riordan growled and then he devoured her lips like a man starving, the hand buried in the hair at the nape of her neck prevented her from escaping his exploration of her mouth, even if she had enough presence of mind to escape.

Soon they were stumbling towards Riordan's bed, clothing was hastely removed and torn from their bodies by impatient hands. She laid down gloriously bare before his eyes and his gaze swept the length of her. "You are a marvel," he whispered and he placed reverent kisses on her skin, starting at her knee and continuing upwards to her hip, rib cage, the fullness of her breast, and then her collarbone.

He traced his fingertips over the tightened muscles of her abdomen and further down to the juncture of her thighs. Riordan moaned into her mouth as his fingers found her warm and willing, he moaned further when she bucked into the palm of his hand as his fingers brushed over a particular spot.

He gazed down into her eyes, which were half-lidded and glazed with passion. "I shall make you forget, sweet Elissa. Tonight, let us burn away all your sorrow with the fire that we share."

Their union came rough, hot and without restraint. Riordan's hands roamed her body ceaselessly as he punished her with deep controlled thrusts. Elissa felt herself spiraling out of control with each caress and every whisper of his hot breath against her neck. Every moan and creak of the bed held its own music and time stopped under the weight of his body, inching forward only when he said her name.

Finally, Elissa could take no more and she planted her feet on either side of his knees and lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust. Riordan's hips snapped forward involuntarily at her assault and his large calloused hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise but light enough for it to be pleasurable. She cried out his name and he responded with hissed out praises in Orlesian which sent her over the edge, pulling him along with her. Together they burned away the rest of the world in that moment of total bliss.

Riordan rode out Elissa's release, only removing himself from her body when she stopped pulsing around him. He then fell to the bed beside her and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

"That was unbelievable," she sighed contentedly and ran her fingers through the curly black hair on his chest.

"For an old man, you mean?" he chuckled.

She groaned in embarrassment, "If we make it out of this, you're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Riordan pressed a kiss to the top of her sweat dampened red hair. "Hush now, lass. Get some rest, for I intend to wake you in a few hours to show you what other moves this old man has," he teased, avoiding speaking on the odds of their survival.

She pushed aside all thoughts of the next day and fell asleep with a smile on her face, knowing that he would indeed wake her for a repeat performance in a matter of hours.

* * *

Elissa choked on a scream of terror as she watched Riordan fall from the sky. "No!" she croaked out weakly when his form disappeared from sight.

"We need to get to the Archdemon, we can't help him now!" Alistair said as he pulled her in the direction of the tower.

He was right, she knew he was right. But that didn't mean that she didn't resent him for it. She followed after the King to be, trying to keep her mind on killing the Archdemon. She sliced through any dark spawn in her wake tried to hold together the remnants of her shattered heart.

Elissa, Alistair, Shale and Sten fought on through what seemed like an endless sea of dark spawn and she held onto her rage until the very end. The Archdemon was indeed at the top of the tower. It flapped its wounded wing and seemed to stare directly at her, as if daring her to try and finish what Riordan started.

Her eyes flicked around the rooftop and she spied the ballista's. She turned to Alistair and their eyes met, "I'm going to fire the ballista's at that thing. Keep it and any dark spawn off me!"

He nodded, "Good luck!"

After what seemed like hours later the Archdemon lie dead, she had taken the final blow, despite Alistair's objections. She plunged her sword into the base of the dragon's skull and wrenched it sharply downwards, the blade severed through the tissue and a blast of energy threw her back, then all was darkness.

* * *

Elissa opened her eyes to find the worried eyes of Wynne and Alistair staring down at her. "I'm not dead," she tried to say reassuringly, but it came out a croak of surprise.

The worry lines in Wynne's face smoothed and she smiled affectionately down at the young Lady Warden. "No, I should hope not. How are you feeling?"

"Any descriptions I would wish to use are totally inappropriate for Alistair to hear," she grunted out.

"Well, since you're back to picking on me I guess its safe to say there isn't any permanent damage done," Alistair said with a chuckle.

Elissa bit back the urge to point out that it really wouldn't matter to him anyway since he'd already tossed her aside, but she did not. Rather she tried to sit up only to have Wynne's warm hands press her back down onto the bed. "Now, dear, you mustn't get up," she cast a glance at Alistair. "Maybe you should go get them now."

Alistair folded his arms over his chest and pouted. "Must I?"

Wynne narrowed her eyes at the young King and his pout turned into a scowl. "Oh, fine," he said and heaved himself off her bed before leaving the room.

"Get who?" Elissa asked Wynne once Alistair had disappeared out the door. "And what is King-pouty- britches problem?"

Wynne laughed and then shook her head. "A lot has happened since the final battle, dear. Both things I think are easier for you to see for yourself, rather than have them explained to you. But as for Alistair's tantrum, well, he's likely realized what a mistake it was to leave you. Both your visitors have been keeping him from being alone with you for more than a few seconds at a time. He feels a tad put out, in my opinion."

"Good," Elissa said, eliciting another laugh from Wynne.

"How long was I out?" Elissa asked as she leaned back against her pillows.

"A few weeks," Wynne replied and Elissa could see the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes.

Elissa reached her hand out and placed it over Wynne's, "I'm alright now, thanks to you."

Wynne's cheeks pinked and she blinked the tears away before gently patting Elissa's hand. "You're quite welcome dear. Besides, it wouldn't do for you to go to the Maker before me. Age before beauty, you know."

"Don't listen to her Wynne, my little sister wouldn't let a little thing like an Archedemon get the best her. Takes after her elder brother," an achingly familiar voice said from the doorway.

Elissa sat up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Fergus!"

Wynne got up from the bed as Fergus crossed the room to her bed in two strides. He gathered her into his arms. "Maker's breath!" he exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're alright!"

"I knew I should have looked harder for you, Fergus!" she squeezed him to her. "What happened to you?"

He held her closely as he told her how he'd been wounded severely in the wilds and had awoken in a Chasind hut. By the time he was well enough to leave and hear word of what happened, she was already marching on Denerim with the armies they had gathered. "I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you sooner, Pup," he apologized, using their father's nickname for her, which caused her to break down into tears for both their losses.

"Bad form Fergus, making a beautiful woman cry," another familiar voice said from the door.

Elissa pulled her head up from her brothers shoulder and peered over it, her eyes again widened in shock. "Fergus, I think I may be hallucinating."

Fergus laughed. "No, you're not. That really is a tough old bugger standing in your doorway!"

"I must remember to challenge you to a friendly spar, Teryn Cousland. If only so that you never call me that again," Riordan shot the younger man a glare which softened at Elissa's bubbling laughter. He entered the room and then sat down on the opposite side of her bed and opened his arms, which were immediately filled by the Cousland woman.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered clutching him to her as though he may indeed disappear at any moment.

"You did not, lass," he pulled away from her and favored her with a roguish smile. "In all my long years, I have never dreamed I would find myself indebted to three awnings and a rather auspiciously placed Denerim clothesline," he explained, earning a laugh from all present.

The chatter in the room died down and soon the fact that the two lovers could not keep their eyes off one another bordered on uncomfortable for the rest of Elissa's company. "Fergus, would you be a dear and escort an old woman down to the kitchens? It seems I have developed quite a hunger all of a sudden," Wynne said with a wink in Elissa's direction.

Fergus, ever the gentleman that his father taught him to be, stood immediately and offered his arm to the Mage. "It would be my pleasure, my Lady."

Wynne tittered appreciatively and took his arm. "Now, stay in bed and no strenuous activity until I've had a chance to properly look you over!" she admonished Elissa.

"Yes, Wynne," Elissa responded dutifully.

With a nod of acceptance Wynne and Fergus left her room, closing her door behind them softly.

Left alone, Elissa suddenly felt a little awkward and she reached up to touch her hair and realized that no one had even so much as brushed it in the time she was passed out. "Maker's breath!" she exclaimed. "I must look frightful."

Riordan reached up and took the hand that was nervously fidgeting with her unruly red hair into his own and pressed a kiss to her palm. "You are beautiful, my sweet Elissa. So much so that my heart aches knowing that after today I may not get to see you for awhile."

Elissa paled, "Why? What's the matter?"

Riordan squeezed her hand. "I must return to Jader. I am the Senior Warden there, or Warden-Commander if you will. I cannot forsake my duties forever."

Elissa's face fell. "Oh."

"Alistair intends on asking the First Warden to name you the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," Riordan said.

"I see," she responded with a scowl.

"I take it that you are not happy with the idea, then?" Riordan asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "No. Alistair should have been in Command this whole time. Not me. I don't even know how to perform a Joining, or what qualities we look for in recruits. I know next to nothing of their history... this whole time I've been muddling through. I am in no way fit to lead the Ferelden Wardens!"

Riordan gave her a sad smile. "I think you are wrong. But that is your choice to make. I have an alternative if you would consider it."

Elissa's eyes lit up. "What do you propose?"

"My calling is soon," he said in a tired voice.

"How long?" she reached her other hand out and laid it on his cheek, smiling when he leaned into her touch.

"I have perhaps as little as five years, as much as ten," he said. "I would like it if you spent the rest of that time with me, in Jader. You can learn all you can while you are there and come back when you are ready to take over command from the Orlesian Commander they will no doubt send if you do not immediately take the post in Amaranthine. The First Warden has agreed with me that this would likely work better for all involved, if you have some experience behind you when that happens. And it would bring me much joy to have you at my side."

Elissa smiled widely and threw her arms around her lover. "We will make these last years ones to treasure, my love."

He hugged her back tightly. "That we will. Now, you must get some rest, sweet Elissa. We leave as soon as you are strong enough," he pulled away slightly and kissed her. The kiss was sweet and filled with promise of many passionate nights to come. When the kiss broke she laid back down with a yawn. He chuckled and placed another kiss on her forehead before getting up from her bed. "I'll send Wynne up to check on you soon," he said.

"Thank you, love," she replied already sinking down into the softness of her pillows.

* * *

Riordan spent another eight years as the Senior Warden of Jader with Elissa Cousland at his side. When the time came for his calling she stayed on, taking over his position as Senior Warden, only leaving Jader to visit Highever every year on the anniversary of her parents death. Fergus tried to get her to visit more often or move back to Ferelden permanently, but she refused, saying that her heart was in Jader, and would remain so until she too was called to the Deep Roads.

* * *

**A/N: Riordan is a wonderful character. One that I really started adoring thanks to Shakespira's "The Lion of Orlais" and "The Way of the Peacock". If you have a chance and you haven't already, I highly suggest taking a look.**

**I also think that eventually I might turn this into a real story. Perhaps about Elissa and Riordan enjoying his last years together. I don't know. Its something to think about, though I have a lot of projects on my plate already. Thank you for taking the time to read and review, I enjoy hearing from you! =) My thanks to Eva Galana, Piceron, and Harmakhis for their support and encouraging words. =)**


	4. The ale drowns out the voices

**Blight Tales**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or its characters, Bioware does._

"**The ale drowns out the voices"**

**Warning: I know I said "clean" in the description. And it is...mostly. I'll understand if you skip it.**

* * *

Oghren stared into his eighth, no, ninth...tenth? Well, not his first drink of the night at any rate. Still, they were half off for some festival or other, which meant he might as well drink twice as much.

"Oghren?" a familiar feminine voice called from behind him. Oghren didn't bother to look up at the Dalish Warden, he merely raised his mug and took a long pull.

"Warden," he shot back after a loud belch.

"Oghren, we need to get going," she said with an impatient tone. She reminded him of Branka when she talked like that.

"Don't let the tavern door hit you on the way out," he grunted.

The elf woman's face darkened. "I'm not leaving here without you," she said firmly.

He turned a glare on her, which she met with a lifted brow. "Well then, order yourself a drink and keep your pretty mouth shut," he grumbled.

She pulled a face, "I don't drink ale."

Oghren snorted in derision, "Elves."

"Durgen'len," she retorted with a wry smile. "Why are you drinking alone?"

As if on cue a pair of dwarven noblemen sauntered up the bar. The one on the left with the beady eyes recoiled theatrically when he noticed them sitting there. "Lets get out of here, I don't want to drink next to a fat, smelly Oghren!"

"I don't smell, you beady eyed little nug-fart!" Oghren growled and his hand traveled mid-way to his ax before he managed to stop himself. Instead he made a fist and his face contorted as if he was in pain.

"Whats the matter _Oghren_?" the one on the right mocked. "Not allowed to draw steel?"

Oghren turned away from them and back to his drink. The Warden looked from Oghren to the dwarves and back again as they continued to taunt him. "Are you really going to let them talk to you like that?"

He was silent until they moved away, presumably to another part of the tavern. He turned a glare on her, "Aye, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Not unless you have a better idea," he motioned for the bartender to refill his mug.

"Fight back! By the Creators you're a berserker hammer-flinging Dwarf!" she exclaimed impatiently.

"Aye, and you're a bony elven wench who kills things with toothpicks," he retorted and then wiped some foam off his mustache.

"Bow and arrows," she corrected him with a growl.

"I just said that. Stone's sake, Warden! Don't you have some prancing about in a forest to do? Leave me alone," he replied gruffly.

"I've been meaning to ask you if something's upsetting you, you haven't said much since we left Orzammar," she said after a few moments.

"Upset?" he harumphed indignantly. "I don't get upset. I drink," draining his mug for emphasis. "And we _are_ in Orzammar," he pointed out when he was done.

The Dalish Warden grimaced. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought," she said to herself.

"You know, you get to me sometimes, Warden," Oghren said testily. "_You_ with yer murmurin' and yer buzzin'!"

She glared at him. "Look, we're not really here. All of this is in your mind."

"If you're going to get all philosophical on me you can just stop right there, philosophical was three ales back," he replied.

"Just shut up for once and listen to me!" she near shouted. "We're in the Fade!"

Oghren blinked at her a few times and then burst out laughing. "Heh! Good one, Warden. You almost had me goin' there. But Dwarves don't dream, we sleep like a rock."

The Warden narrowed her eyes on Oghren. "Fine, I'll just have to prove it to you then," with that she got up and stomped her way over to where those two dwarves that had harassed him were standing in a corner of the tavern. She said something to them that he couldn't make out, but it must have been insulting because they drew their weapons and so did she.

"Aw, shite!" he growled and took one last pull from his mug before drawing his ax. He was going to get ejected from Orzammar for this, but if anyone was worth getting exiled for, it was that stupid woman. He reached her just in time to hit one of her opponents with the butt of his ax, stunning him before taking the man's head off. He gaped as the body fell to the floor to reveal the body of a skeleton-like demon. He barely noticed that she had taken care of the other one until it too dropped onto the floor next to the one he killed. Suddenly the sounds of the tavern stopped and he looked up to find himself not in Tapster's, but surrounded by a twisted and unfamiliar landscape.

"Ancestor's!" he swore and then doubled over, his hands on his knees as he fought a powerful wave of nausea. "W-What were those things?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Those were demons," she replied impatiently. "We were pulled into the Fade by the Sloth demon. Don't you remember?"

"You mean to tell me that none of that was real? Some demon did this...just to piss me off?" he asked her incredulously.

She grinned at him. "Nothing gets by you."

"Alright, lets go find this thing so I can put my foot in its arse!" he growled and then his eyes narrowed. "Hey! Where are you going? Aren't you coming with me?"

Later in camp...

Oghren was sitting, or if you prefer, sprawling in his usual half-drunken stupor in front of his tent. Or at least, that's how it seemed to those around him. Though to the Dalish Warden, it looked like he was trying to keep everyone in camp at a safe distance. She watched him from where she sat on her bedroll, fletching arrows. She rarely ever slept in her tent on warm, clear nights, and soon she would set aside her supplies and stretch out on her bedroll and gaze up at the heavens until she fell asleep.

Tonight, however, there would be no sleep until she unraveled the tangled ball of mystery that was her drunken dwarf companion. Finally after one too many over-exaggerated belches she tossed aside her things in disgust and stood up. Alistair looked up at her with concern, "Where are you going?"

She rolled her eyes, "Just over there. Don't worry Alistair, you'll still be able to see me."

Alistair scowled. "Fine."

Lyna sighed heavily, she hoped that whatever it was that the Shem-Warden thought he felt towards her that it would go away soon. His silly pining and clinging was quickly wearing on her nerves.

She made her way over to Oghren who upon seeing her let loose another belch and took a swig of ale from the beard flask she had given him. He let some of the amber colored liquid dribble down his chin for affect. "What do you want?" he slurred out.

"An end to your moping," she replied and then plopped down next to him, her legs beneath her.

"Dwarves don't mope," he grunted.

"Dwarves don't mope, or dream, or get upset, or have manners," Lyna ticked off all the things he'd claimed Dwarves didn't have off on her fingers. "I don't think any of that is true."

"Well, slap my bottom and call me Sally!" he lifted his flask to her. "You aren't as dumb as you look."

She frowned but didn't rise to the bait. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"You want to talk?" he asked and when she nodded he set his flask aside and folded his arms over his chest. "Fine. What do you want to talk about? Branka? Hespith? You, me, nekkid? I got all night," he leered at her.

The Warden raised an eyebrow at him. "You said I was bony."

"Heh, well, you were botherin' me at the time. Sort of like...now," he grumbled and picked his flask back up.

"Why do you drink so much?" she asked.

"Why do you talk so much?" he retorted.

"I asked you first," she pointed out.

"Which means about as much to me as a fart in the pittance, Warden."

She sighed. "Alright, you want to know what I think?" she asked.

"Nope," he shot back.

"I think you drink so much because you're trying to forget," she said.

"Forget? Forget what?" he growled angrily.

"How to feel!" she hissed. "Branka left you behind and when we found her you realized that she never loved you like you loved her to begin with. She loved _Hespith_. You lost your right to draw steel in Orzammar over a woman that didn't even have the decency to be faithful to-," she closed her mouth when she saw how red and angry his face had gotten, the color contrasting sharply with his beard and hair, making it look orange in comparison.

"And what would you know about it?" he ground out. "What do you _want_ from me, anyway?"

"To let it go," she said quietly, the wind gone from her sails.

He looked at her for a long time, as if trying to ascertain whether or not she was going to suddenly jump on him like a deep crawler. His face started to return to its normal pallor and the irate expression changed to on of grudging acceptance. "Maybe."

Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Really?"

"I'll think about it. But don't go thinkin' I'll suddenly drink less and start skipping around with the Chantry sister makin' daisy chains or nothin'," he sighed heavily.

The Warden nodded with satisfaction, and valiant fought the insane urge to giggle at the thought of Oghren wearing a daisy chain around his head. "That will do...for now."

* * *

It had been a long exhausting day in Denerim. They'd been to Genetivi's house only to find that the scholar had been absent from his home for quite some time. Somehow, killing the Shem-mage who impersonated Genetivi's murdered assistant, Weylon, had only marginally eased the anger and sorrow that she had been wrestling with since the camp was attacked with shrieks the night prior. So when Sergeant Kylon had given the Dalish Warden the opportunity to go knock some heads at the local brothel, she had taken the very least once the place was cleared out of troublemaker's she could crawl into a bottle of wine. The irony that she had just spent a great deal of time a week ago trying to get Oghren to stop that very behavior, did not escape her. She just didn't particularly care.

To her disappointment, getting the White Falcon's to leave the brothel didn't prove to be overly challenging, and didn't come to blows as she had hoped. Still, she gave both Zevran and Oghren a sovereign each to do whatever, or whomever they wanted, and then she plopped herself down at a table. The mabari she had picked up in Ostagar settled down beside her on the floor with a huff.

"Not interested in entertainment tonight, love?" the Proprietress, Sanga, asked.

The Dalish Warden shook her head. "A bottle of wine and a goblet would be nice," she suggested hopefully.

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "Right away, my dear," she said kindly, disappearing into a storage room, only to reappear shortly after with a bottle and a Goblet. She set them before the Warden and pocketed the forty silvers in a pouch at her waist.

Sometime later the Warden was into her fourth Goblet when the chair next to her was pulled out and Oghren plopped into it. "Well," she looked him up and down, "that didn't take long."

Oghren fixed her with an indignant glare. "Takes much longer for _that_, Warden. I just didn't ask for any tail. Spent it on somethin' else."

The Warden's eyebrows shot up, "Oh? Then what did you spend it on?"

"Gambling. I lost badly to a lady named Isabella in a game of something called 'Wicked Grace'" he grunted. "You know, if it had been Diamond back I would have pummeled her!"

She patted him on the hand sympathetically, knowing that Isabella probably cheated. She then drained her goblet in one gulp. When it was empty, she poured herself another. "Poor durgen'len, no bucking the forbidden bronto for you!"

"Horse," he corrected.

"What?" she turned to him and blinked several times before he swam back into focus.

"How many of those have ya had, Warden?" he eyed her.

"Not nearly enough," she retorted and then hiccuped.

"Look, I'm not one to get in touch with my feelings or anythin', but it seems like ever since the camp got attacked you've had a stick up your arse about somethin'," he pointed out. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No!" she growled.

"Good!" he said and then waved Sanga over. "Hey, be a doll and get me a few ales? I've got some catching up to do with the lass, here. On her of course!"

Sanga gave the dwarf a skeptical look and then turned to the elven Warden for confirmation. "Get him an ale. If I pass out, cut him off," the Waden replied to the unspoken question.

Sanga smiled at her and then left to get Oghren his ale.

"Yer no fun! It's a good thing I carry some of my own!" Oghren chuckled. Sanga returned with Oghren's ale and he lifted the mug to his Warden companion. "To you, Warden. Without you, I'd still be stuck in Orzammar!"

"Here, here!" she laughed and drank with him.

"So what's the occasion, Warden?" he asked after some time.

"Oghren," she groaned. "I thought we weren't going to talk about it!"

"Aye," he agreed. "But it just occurred to me that you never leave me the sod alone, so why should I leave _you_ alone? Pay back is a bitch!"

"The shrieks," she said quietly after a long silence. "I knew one of them."

"Ah, friend of yours?" he asked, taking another swig of his ale.

"Yes, we were...well we cared for each other. We probably would have bonded...er... gotten married. But such things were not meant to be. He touched something that he shouldn't have and became that thing you saw. And I? I got forced into being a Grey Warden," she spat bitterly.

"You didn't choose to be a Warden?" Oghren sounded surprised.

"I got the same blight sickness as Tamlen, we would have both become shrieks if a Grey Warden hadn't found me and brought me back to my clan. He said I would die without joining him. I left my clan, my home, my people...now here I sit, a proud Grey Warden," she snorted.

"Warden, bitterness doesn't look good on you," he said.

"Oh?" she retorted without thinking. "What _does_ look good on me then?"

"I kind of like that skimpy elf armor you wear, actually," Oghren replied without missing a beat, a grin on his broad face. He laughed when she blushed. "Oooh! Whats the matter Warden? Afraid old Oghren sneaked a peak at your knickers during a fight? Don't worry, from my vantage point I've had plenty of opportunity to get a look up your skirt! It's quite a view!"

"Oghren!" she squeaked as he suddenly pulled her chair closer.

"Heh, yep. I knew you had a thing for me," he teased. "Look at how you blush when you think about me seeing up yer skirt!"

Her mouth dropped open, clearly flabbergasted by the sudden turn in conversation. She looked around frantically. "Where's Zevran?" she asked, looking for the assassin, hoping he would be able to help her get away from a suddenly amorous Oghren.

When she turned back to face him she gasped as she found herself almost nose to nose with the dwarf. "He took off with that Isabella woman. Turns out she's some kind of lady pirate," he replied, his green eyes twinkled with mischief. "Look Warden. I've been thinking about what you said. And I think you're right."

"I-I am?" she stuttered, her light blue eyes darting from his lips to his eyes and back again, she wondered if he was really planning on kissing her. She repressed the shiver she felt when his breath ghosted over her lips. She didn't even notice the alcohol smell, which said a lot about her own alcohol consumption.

"Yeah, you said crawling into a bottle wasn't going to help me deal with stuff. And no matter how hard I drink I still can't seem to prove you wrong. It doesn't drown out the voices and I can't think of anything else that does...well, 'cept maybe...heh, well you know. I think you need it just as much as I do. I've been waiting for you to get it elsewhere, 'cept you don't seem the type that goes for humans. I figured that much out from all those times you turned down the little pike twirler. The other elf hasn't had much luck with ya. So maybe you need someone like me. I'm offerin' one night. I make you feel good, you make me feel good. We all feel good," he leered and stroked his beard. "You might be surprised about how much old Oghren knows about makin' a lady feel special. We don't even have to tell nobody," he coaxed.

The Warden lifted an eyebrow, "We don't?"

He chuckled. "Heh, sure. I don't mind bein yer _dirty _little secret."

"Alright," she agreed after some thought.

"I-," his eyes widened and he sat back in his chair, staring at her in shock. "What?"

She regarded him with amusement. This was _his_ idea, after all. "Yes, Oghren. I said yes."

"Well, I'll be..." he trailed off with a disbelieving laugh. "Aye, alright then, lead the way, Warden."

Later that evening the Warden lay beside a loudly snoring Oghren in a room she rented from Sanga. She giggled as he rolled towards her, his large arms gathering her up and pulling her against him. He buried his face in her hair. "You still awake, woman?" he grunted.

She let out a soft laugh, amused at how she'd gone from 'Warden' to 'Woman' in the span of only a few hours. "No," she replied teasingly.

He chuckled, and she shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her neck. His large hand splayed over her belly and he pulled her backwards and simultaneously surged forwards with his hips twice. "Knock-knock!" he laughed.

She swatted his arm in the dark, but laughed anyway. "Stop that, you're terrible!"

"Heh! S'not what you said three hours ago!" he chuckled.

"Mmm," she agreed as he kissed her neck, liking the way his beard felt against her skin. "Oghren?"

"Yeah?" he mumbled into her long blond hair. His large hand moved from her belly upwards to cup a breast that barely fit into the palm of his hand.

"If I forget to say so in the morning, when this becomes awkward and we're trying to act like this never happened... thank you. You were right, I did need this," she said and then gasped as his rough fingers traveled over her skin.

"Hey, anytime," he said softly, and she could tell that he meant it. He was there for her, no matter what this night meant for either of them or if it ever happened again. He'd be there for her, to help her drown out the voices. Because she'd done the same for him.

* * *

**A/N: Hahaha, what was I _thinking_? I don't know...I really don't. Sometimes I just get these ideas that don't go away. I hope I haven't scarred you for life. ;)**


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